"What Magic Is" - Justin Patrick Moore

"What Magic Is" - Justin Patrick Moore

Magic burns somewhere between phosphorous and philosophy it churns the midnight soil after hopping the cemetery wall.“Dig this,” it says pointing to an unmarked grave. Magic wasn’t made to be an energy slave whim of yours to hire black lace and red light for the convenience of your desire.Sometimes it is a thirst slaked by snagging you into the coals a wild mare giving birth to foals the snare is, its out of your control.Who lights this match now smells the sulfur it doesn’t demand you be pure but is a catalytic converter of events.Sometimes it is better not to know.What is it I am doing? What is it all for?The horizon is a door.